Cinderella: Shifted
by Java Bum
Summary: This is a shifted aspect of Cinderella, taken off of a writing prompt that wants a "what if a shoe fit one of the step-sisters?" This has been done countless times, but I figured I'd at least do something with it. Turned out decently enough  I hope .


**Cinderella: Shifted**

Cinderella broke from the crowd and raced across the courtyard before the gates. The guards were puzzled as to why a woman was rushing pell-mell and they looked behind her to see if there was one in pursuit. It wasn't uncommon that a woman, no matter how nobly born, would be taken at such a convention. But there was no one and the woman was crying openly nonetheless.

Before the guards could stop her, she burst passed them and the open gates, her bare feet silent on the cobblestones. A few minutes later another guard—one of the elites that protected the Crown Prince—came rushing up.

Despite being out of breath, the Royal Guard still had an authority to him that the others were easily effected by. They stood at attention as the Royal Guard spoke. "Was there a woman whom passed this way naught but a few minutes ago? She was a treasure of a woman in a dress like the stars shining through a summer sky."

The gate guards looked at each other, puzzled, and one ventured to answer. "Aye, there has been." Their breaths were stiff and caught in their throats, because that description was perfect and now that they reflected upon it, they were never going to forget such an image that had now been distorted by this man.

"His Lordship would wish her to be found."

"Did she harm the Crowned Prince?" the other gate guard asked.

With a shake of his head, the stern man in his royal armor stared outside the gates still hanging open. A few carriages rolled by. The hooves of the horses clacked in the background. "Nay. They were dancing. All night he had been taken by her. He would dance with no other. I could find no one whom knew of her father's House and its status."

"What do you wish us to do, sir?" asked the first guard.

His piercing blue eyes were turned to the questioner. "I fear we must need find this Lady, for I am certain that that will be the royal heir's utmost wish. Rally forth, good men. Spread the word; she must be found as quickly and quietly as possible—with no harm brought to her, you must stress this fact—and she must be brought to the keep, before she flees the city."

But Cinderella was swift, and a shame burned inside of her, and she was never caught, though so many had seen her. The prince was morose, and his broken sleep was filled with images of this Lady dancing across the hall floor. Those men that saw her that night fleeing the keep and city were taken as well; they went home to their wives and made love to her to the image of this ethereal woman.

The Crowned Prince finally convinced his Royal father to pursue this Lady. A scribe was given to the Prince after long hours the notices were set far and wide in the handbags of many messengers, beginning the race for the Prince's infatuation.

Taverns and Inns across the land bore the signs hammered into the walls and posts; criers called for all women in the land to bear their feet and take their chances upon the single Glass Slipper left behind by the flighty damsel. It was a chance for one and all to try for the Crowned Prince's affections. The stipulations allowed for any woman of any standing within any House that fell within specific criteria signed by the heir himself.

Peasant women dreamed of the handsome prince, of what it would feel like to have him call upon them. Cooks and servants secretly hoarded the belief that they had every right to this sudden opportunity, albeit this was not to be.

Each House and its Ladies were left standing, watching the caravan depart with the Royal Heir surrounded by only his guards, his men, himself.

Each night was filled with fantasies of better times and places that did not exist for Cinderella. She woke each day to face a reality much like she had always lived before. No, not the same; the entirety of her one-night voyage into the great unknown had left such a rift inside of her that Cinderella hated this normalcy she was forced to endure yet again. She dealt with the sudden withdrawal of a fantasy come true in the way that most do, by trying to convince herself that it had never happened.

She spoke relentlessly with the random rodents and pets, confided in the livestock, and constantly started from a daze having realized that she had been staring relentlessly at the single remaining glass slipper. The panic of these moments was almost unbearable, thinking that someone would see her—her stepmother or her stepsisters—but the fear was not total.

Cinderella dreamed of breaking up the monotony, to have something new and exciting drift into her life. This new change in her waylaid everything she originally believed in, but it was something that she took to since that night, the only night of her entire life.

And then the notice was brought home. The villa was set on fire as the servants spread the word even before the cruelty for Cinderella could begin. It was a beautiful demise.

Drizella, one of Cinderella's stepsisters, threw the door open and stormed across the courtyard. There was a look of malicious intent etched across her face; a look that had made itself a permanent resident like liquid stone. She bore down on Cinderella, calling out when she was close enough, though far too loudly to be cordially acceptable.

"Cinderella, Cinderel_la_. Oh, do we have a _surprise_ for you."

Cinderella sighed as she wiped her blonde hair from her face with her forearm since her hands were filthy.

"Oooh, Cinderella, Cinderella—will do as I bid. Cinderella, dressed in yellow—like the servant she is," she said in a patronizing singsong voice. When Drizella failed to get a response out of Cinderella, she narrowed her eyes and glared at her stepsister. "Get you inside. Mother wants you…_Now_."

As Cinderella headed towards the villa an audience was growing, although it was a subtle one. Servants stole looks at her as she walked with a straight back, but to those who knew the news were seeing a girl march into the lion's jaws with as much of her dignity and pride as she could muster from the scraps.

The morning light vanished as they walked through the pantry and kitchens and back into the sunlight as it pierced through the high windows of the parlor. The Lady Tremaine was lounging on her divan, but she was stiff-backed and regal. Anastasia, who was her other stepsister, stood off to the side of her mother, being far enough away to not attract notice to herself.

Lady Tremaine craned her head and peered regally at Cinderella, her stepdaughter. Her hair was a sheet of black with gray streaks beginning to dominate the sides of her head. All three of the women related by blood were exquisitely dressed while Cinderella was garbed in worn commoner clothes, albeit of a better make.

"Word has come that the Royal Heir is searching for his unknown damsel from the Ball," her stepmother said. "He is roaming the kingdom for this missing Lady; he is allowing all to try to wear this slipper she had left behind when she fled the keep."

There was a look of approval in her eyes as she looked out at her blood daughters, each in turn. "It is said that he is to court her—when he finds her." Looking back at the notice in her hands, she concluded, "It is said all Ladies of high rank may test their fate to that of the shoe he holds."

Cinderella could barely keep her heart from leaping out of her throat. "Then I am to be able to attempt this as well."

Like the crack of a whip, Lady Tremaine shot a glare at her blonde stepdaughter. There was a calculating look in her pale eyes. "Aye, so it seems." With a brisk motion, she snapped and rolled the parchment back up. "Provided that all of your chores are completed. Now, run along little Cinderella and prepare yourself for supper. I wishn't your father to come home to you looking so…careless."

Cinderella swallowed down, her meekness warring inside her with this new determination to level the playing field. "Yes, mother."

The older woman looked to her daughter keeping out of sight. "Anastasia, take her to her room and help her; this night will be of special import to his Lordship, seeing as one of his daughters could very well become Queen."

The deliberate slowness to her voice set the pace for which Anastasia moved at as she crossed the room and guided Cinderella from the parlor. Cinderella could hear her dark-haired stepsister nearly screeching in her excitement and faintly, very faintly, she heard the soft, stern voice of her stepmother doing her version of a coo to Drizella.

"Come," Anastasia said quietly, standing at the foot of the stairs. "We must get you cleaned up."

Anastasia didn't leave as they reached Cinderella's sparse room. There was little to adorn the place, but it wasn't a commoner's room by any standings. Cinderella knew full well that this was because the Lady of the villa wanted to control and humiliate her stepdaughter without letting her husband know what she was doing to his only blood child. She was cunning and spiteful; every day Cinderella did what servants were supposed to do, and every evening she was bathed and dressed up to impress her father who, even after the marriage, enjoyed seeing his beautiful daughter shine so brightly.

"Cinderella."

She sighed heavily and looked over her shoulder at her stepsister. "What do you want, Anastasia? I am certain I am capable of bathing and dressing myself. Considering that I do everything else that is below _your_ station."

A half-smile budded itself on Anastasia's lips. "It seems as if you have a fire beneath you today, _sister_. If anything, I am certain that you are capable of _your_ station."

It was so difficult for Cinderella to read Anastasia. Unlike Drizella, this one was quiet but not subdued; she was cunning like her mother, receiving the regal, ladylike countenance of manipulating those equal or higher in station, while her shorter, dark-haired sister was whiny and vocal, using station to punish others beneath her.

Cinderella narrowed her eyes pensively. "You jest. I am not in the mood."

Anastasia shut the door and leaned against the jamb, folding her arms across her midriff. "Actually, I do not jest. It seems that since the Ball, you've become a new person, a new—ah, woman. And then there is this issue with the Royal Heir. I sense a change in you, sister."

Cinderella just stared at her stepsister quietly, afraid to speak. Her heart was hammering away in her chest, and the blood rushing through her made her body ache.

"Just remember that if I can see it, so can mother." Anastasia continued on when she received no response. "A friendly reminder is all I wish to convey. We are all just shy of age, and when we are women grown, our father will marry us off." She paused for a moment. "Including you, Cinderella."

Cinderella threw her brush onto her bed. It was something that was out of place, the only thing that was out of place in the entire room. "What do you want, Anastasia? I haven't the time to be teased before being kicked."

"You wound me," Anastasia said.

"As you me," countered Cinderella harshly.

Anastasia held up her hands, palms forward. "All I mean is that you are bound for a way out soon enough, so be cautious of mother in the meantime. Her aptitude for cruelty knows no bounds."

"I know this well enough, I think," snapped Cinderella, but there was already a seed of doubt growing inside of her. Anastasia's actions could easily be to manipulate her, but there was a genuine sympathy to her now that Cinderella had never seen.

"You _have_ changed." There was a smile on her face as she said it.

Cinderella wouldn't look at her sister. "Go, please. I must ready myself before father comes home."

Anastasia took a last lingering look at her sibling before opening the door and slipping outside. Cinderella sat down at her vanity and sighed heavily, trembling openly now that she was alone. How she held herself together she didn't know. Her heart was racing so fast that it hurt. She stared at her reflection in the looking glass, and she could hear her stepsister's words ringing in her head. She was changed. With these whispers screaming inside her mind, she saw herself anew and judged that, yes, she could see that she had changed—she had grown.

The night brought about a few changes of its own, a few surprises that startled everyone except for the Lady and Lord of the House. The Lady because she orchestrated the entire event, and then there was her father because he seldom expressed himself openly. There was but two days before the Royal Entourage arrived in their area. There were four villas within their region and all would more than likely be swept in a single day. The Lord of the House stated simply that he would send the servants out on the morrow to purchase new dresses for all three girls. Lady Tremaine, of course, said she would go with them because a Lady's touch would be required if all three were to look their very best. The cold looks she received when her father's attention was diverted showed that she would receive no best, or only the best of their worst.

Cinderella could not sleep, restless as she was. She knew that there were better days just ahead, if she could just outwit her stepmother. Two days was all it would take; two days was all that she had.

Cinderella got out of her bed and crept over to the corner of her room. She shifted the floor panel loose and settled the piece of wood down as gently as she could. With slow deference, she lifted a wrapped bundle from the little cubbyhole. She positioned herself so that the candlelight could fall upon her prize. Slowly, she unraveled the rag from around the object and revealed a heeled shoe that shone and sparkled like diamonds in sunlight. It eased her but it did not completely calm her. She stared at it for a long time, running her fingertips longingly, lovingly over the surface of the slipper.

"Soon enough," she whispered every now and again.

The next day passed in a rush for most, but for Cinderella, it was one of slow agony. The waiting was the hardest part, because her stepmother and stepsisters were nowhere to be found. They had gone off to do their shopping, in which Cinderella was not disappointed to find out that they had not bought her anything to wear. It was an obvious tactic that Lady Tremaine tried to use to break the spirit of the girl. But Cinderella had already tasted freedom, and with it came a hardened will.

She also prepared everything for the following day in advance. She set these up in secret, knowing that the other servants would not side with her when presented with favor from Cinderella's witch of a stepmother. All work that was completed that day were done with exceptional care to ease her workload for the following day, because at any point the Prince and his men would come calling on their estate.

In the late afternoon, as she was finishing up her tasks, Cinderella was visited by the being that she had dubbed her Fairy Godmother. The creature was a tiny thing that resembled a person but was oddly shaped and stunted. Her skin tone was not normal; it was more translucent than a person's, and it glowed ever so faintly. Her clothing and hair style, too, were foreign.

"I spy a girl who is hard at work. Did your adventure not go as planned?" asked the small thing.

Cinderella looked at the fairy, that wasn't a fairy out of the picture books, since she didn't have wings. The young woman remained seated on her heels as she placed her hands on her knees. "Many a day has gone since that night—but no, nothing came of it. Don't get me wrong, it was wonderful, but at midnight…well, I had to leave."

"And what happens now?" inquired the sprite little creature as she hopped—and drifted—onto a rock inside the flowerbed.

A wistful smile came upon her lips and a dreamy look slid behind her eyes. "The prince, he's scouring the countryside looking for me. He will be here sometime tomorrow. He is using the slipper I lost to test it to all Ladies."

"Ahh, to see if the shoe fits, yes?

Cinderella nodded. "Aye, and I've something that no other can—which will win him over to me. I have the other one."

There was a gleeful peel of laughter from the scant creature as she spun around in a circle with her arms out and skirts twirling. "Well done, young thing!"

Leaning forward, Cinderella said in a conspiring whisper, "The look upon the faces of the others will be a thing to behold when they realize that I am she from the Ball."

"Best of luck to you then, lassy," her Fairy Godmother said with bell-like laughter.

It was this that gave Cinderella her resolve when her stepmother returned without anything for her—she had already prepared for the worst scenarios. The mirthless triumph seen in that woman's face was enough to raise the temperature of Cinderella's blood to the point of boiling, but she managed to keep her cool nonetheless. After dinner, she slipped away to be in her room. She could hear Drizella sniggering as she left.

None of it mattered, though. The day had ended. She slipped into her father's study while he was still downstairs and filched a swill of her father's brandy to steady her nerves. The first had no immediate effect and the taste was hard to bear, but swallow it down she did. She took another and the impact was noticeable. That night, she slept soundly with many vivid dreams.

The following day was one of turmoil for Cinderella, she knew that she would have to fight against her siblings and her stepmother, but she had a steel resolve to survive and see this through. She started it with a vengeance, but she was outclassed by the her stepmother every step of the way.

When she had finished cleaning the kitchen, making sure that it was spotless, she gave a silent prayer for the insight she had had to make sure it was perfect the day before. But as she was finished with it, Drizella was sent in to see how the project was faring. Out of spite, the dark-haired young woman kicked the bucket of slop over and slid the dirt across the floor, forcing Cinderella to clean it again.

That was the first of many attempts to hinder Cinderella from completing the tasks laid in front of her, and it seemed that her previous attempt to make the workload easier seemed to be nonexistent. As much energy as she put into cleaning the place, the Lady Tremaine or her lackeys added that much more in ruining her efforts. They would knock things over, dump dirt onto the floors, and even going so far as to let the livestock indoors.

But their actions were controlled; Lady Tremaine knew full well not to let it get so far out of hand that Cinderella could not complete the tasks before her Lord father came home; they were trying to keep her from presenting herself to the prince.

No matter how hard the others fought against Cinderella, she succeeded where they failed. She was done by midafternoon, and the royal entourage had yet to arrive. Lady Tremaine conceded this and let her go to her rooms to prepare. The only thing she had said to Cinderella was this: "You've made an impression, girl, so you will get your chance."

Anastasia was the one who took her to her rooms. She had a shawl wrapped around her head, and its edge was pulled forward, partially concealing her face in shadows. It was something that she had never done before, but it was something that seemed so natural to her. She was naturally quiet-spoken and withdrawn, but the cunning was always there.

"You've made it through the worst she could do to you, sister."

Cinderella went to her chair and was going to sit, but upon seeing herself in her looking glass, she thought better of it and sank to her knees heavily. "'Twas a taxing day, no doubt."

She was weary, hungry, and thirsty. She ignored all pressing needs except relieving herself as she fought time and people that day. Anastasia went over to her side table and poured a glass of water for her stepsister.

"I wish to congratulate you on this, Cinderella. 'Tis as you say it, a taxing day," Anastasia said as she handed the glass to the tired young woman.

"Thank you," Cinderella said as she drank from the glass. When she lowered it, she curled it in her palms, fingers. "I must know, Anastasia…This kindness you've shown me is out of place. Why are you doing it?"

"Kindness?" Anastasia said with a laugh. Cinderella looked to her, confused, and her stepsister amended, "'Tis not a kindness I show, merely a lack of malice. You may think I enjoy the torment brought upon you, but I do not. Oh, Drizella does, no doubt, but I am not her. Surely you've seen this?"

Cinderella merely nodded.

"Good, because when I am, it is not simply to be cruel for cruelty's sake, I am harsh because I want something, and the way to achieve my desire is to be so. Does this make sense?"

Cinderella nodded again.

"'Tis unfortunate how everything has worked itself out, because you really are a sweet girl, and I would have enjoyed having a sister such as you, but the fates have decided ''tis not to be. _Mother_ decided that 'twas not to be."

Cinderella could not look at Anastasia as her stepsister spoke, revealing so much more than she ever had before. It was more emotion than she could handle, having dealt with the anxiety of waiting, the fear of not accomplishing her self-declared mission, and the animosity towards her stepmother and her people. But now there was Anastasia being more than just cordial, she was being sisterly, and she was confiding in Cinderella.

It was too much. It was because she was looking away that she didn't see Anastasia pull a jewel box off of Cinderella's vanity and raise it above her head. Anastasia slammed the metal casing into the side of Cinderella's head. The blonde woman buckled forward and then fell to her side, unconscious.

Anastasia knelt down beside her stepsister and gently stroked her golden hair away from her face. "I want something now," she whispered, though she knew that Cinderella could not hear her.

Darkness subsided and was replaced by a throbbing pain in Cinderella's skull. She groaned as she sat up, placing her hand on her head, gingerly touching the culprit. It was a massive lump that was so tender to the touch that it sent streaks of agony searing through her head. She cried out. She tried to remember how this had happened, but everything was a jumble of incoherent images and thoughts.

And then it dawned on her: the prince! He was supposed to be there, and if he wasn't, then it was just a matter of time. So she fought the pain and scrambled to her feet. She quickly dressed and washed. The water was cool, but she didn't have the time to call for more or even fetch some for herself. Quickly she bathed and dressed, did her hair and applied rouge, and did so efficiently, since she had spent years perfecting the art when her stepmother would give her little to no time before her father would be home, and she had to be ready to meet him in her fineries.

She checked herself one more time in the mirror, made sure everything was perfect, and then rushed to the door and tugged on it. It did not open. She tried again and again, but the latch was secured, not releasing as it should. Realization spread throughout her and it made her head throb even more. Cinderella was locked inside her rooms.

She rushed to her secret hiding place and jiggled the wood piece loose and reached inside. Her heart was racing and she held her breath as she pulled out the rag but there was no slipper in it. Now when Cinderella cried out, it was in panic. She sobbed a hectic mantra of the word "No." She scoured her room in search of it, looking under the pillow and under her blankets, but she couldn't find it. She tore through her wardrobe and didn't see it. She wrecked her rooms in her quest and didn't care.

She ran to the door again and yanked on the handle, but the door did not give. She pounded her small fists onto the heavy oak doors and screamed out for help, for someone to let her out, for her father, and in her desperation she cried out for her dead mother, and finally to Anastasia. No one came.

She slammed her forehead against the door and recoiled in pain as white lanced behind her eyes. Helpless, Cinderella sank down next to her bed, placing her head on the crook of her arm. She pleaded in shaky whispers for someone to come, someone to help her.

"Poor thing, is something the matter?" It was the fairy, dressed in her awkward garb. Her hair was wild and filled with leaves and twigs.

Cinderella cried and went to hug the little thing. "Oh, Fairy Godmother! 'Tis _so_ good to see you! I prayed and prayed for someone to come, and you did! Thank you. _Thank_ you!"

The fairy awkwardly scampered from the young woman's clutching grasp. "What is the matter, child?"

"Someone locked the door on me, and I cannot get down to see the prince," Cinderella explained frantically. "And someone stole my _shoe_!"

"Someone, someone…" repeated the fairy.

"You must help me!" begged Cinderella. "I must get out of here!"

The small creature sighed heavily and shook her head. "I cannot do so upon command. I am sorry."

"What do you mean?" cried Cinderella.

"It means that I cannot help you directly."

"Then what are you _doing_ here?" Panic was overriding the young girl's senses.

The fairy squared her shoulders and glared at the crying woman. "Do you want my help or not?" she snapped.

Cinderella nodded meekly, sniffling.

"Then we must make a game of this."

"A _game_?" Cinderella was definitely _not_ happy about the proposition. "I do not have time for a game! Either help me or leave!"

The tiny thing pinched the bridge of her nose with her fingers. "Lassy, 'tis time you listened and listened good. I can only help _in_directly. So put on your thinking cap and get to it. The door is locked and _we_ need the way to be open."

Cinderella picked up on the stress on the plural word. She nodded and then took a deep breath. Seconds ticked by so slowly that it felt to the young woman as if everything was taking far too long. She couldn't focus her mind on the task, and so she started letting the randomness of her thoughts bubble forth from her lips. They were logically based, referring to magic as if it were commonplace albeit it was a rarity that even myths only scraped the surface of things. Every idea that Cinderella had, the fairy rejected. It seemed that the sprite-like female could only manipulate what was around her and not create a thing from nothing.

"Oh, you could always just unlock the door so easily, but you don't have to because you can just disappear and reappear somewhere else!" cried Cinderella. And then a thought came to her, because it pierced through her frantic countenance and became something akin to an epiphany. "But you don't _have_ to. You _could_ just use the door. And if you had to use the door to leave, you can simply unlock it."

There was a proud smile on the fairy's face that brightened her already luminescent skin. "I guess I could use the door this time. It has surely been a while since I have, and I would very much like to know what it feels like again."

There was a muted thump that occurred behind Cinderella and she turned around to the door with wide, wondering eyes. "Is it…?" She couldn't finish the train of thought, in case it wasn't real. She pushed herself up and approached the door slowly. She levered the latch and the door opened. There was awe radiating from her face as she turned around to thank the fairy, but the words caught in her throat.

The fairy seemed to know the words that were left unspoken. "Go, then, child."

Cinderella spun around and darted from the room, down the hallway, and raced down the stairwell. She flew through the antechamber and into the living room before coming into the lighted parlor. The young woman staggered to a stop. No one was there. She looked around and saw nothing but a servant standing in the doorway of a different exit. He shook his head morosely, it seemed, and didn't say anything.

So Cinderella spun around and raced back out. She flew to the main entrance and begged past a servant in the open doorway to see, in the failing light, her stepsister Drizella standing with the Lady Tremaine. They were staring out over the expansive courtyard of the estate. Confusion was burning inside of Cinderella now as she peered outward in the direction the other two women were looking. She was hard-pressed to spy the last of a train of carriages pulling out of the main gates.

Panic infused itself inside of her as she rushed down the steps and onto the hard-packed road wrapping around a grand garden that had a fountain within it for all to see. She was out of breath, each intake hurting her breasts as she fought off the dread of what was surely to come. Drizella grinned something wicked at Cinderella.

"She's off to marry the prince," hissed the dark-haired young woman with victory in her voice.

Lady Tremaine turned her head and widened her eyes as if in surprise. "Oh, Cinderella, _there_ you are!"

"What happened?" Cinderella had to force the words out.

Fake sympathy etched itself onto her stepmother's face. "Why, Anastasia was hiding something from all of us. She not only fit the slipper perfectly upon her foot, but she had the other one. So now she is off to court the prince looking so much like…_you_."

Alarm rang in Cinderella's head. "No," she whispered in disbelief.

"Oh, yes," said the older Lady with quiet triumph.

"She knew," whispered Cinderella as she began to lose her self-control. "She knew about the slipper." Without waiting for any response or command, she turned on her heel and ran across the courtyard and around the villa towards the stables, ignoring the demands of her stepmother.

Cinderella chose the fastest mare, the one that was aggressive to all but her and her father, and saddled the beast. She quickly checked the buckles and harnesses, making certain that everything was done right. There was a commotion building up outside, and it was getting closer. Cinderella sped up the process and then pulled herself up onto the horse's back, straddling the saddle instead of riding like a Lady.

As she burst out of the stables, two stable-hands had to jump clear of the rider and her horse. There were more gathering; it seemed as if her stepmother had pulled all the stops. Yet in this regard, Cinderella didn't care. She clicked and spurred the mare forward, galloping around the villa towards the packed road leading towards the main gates. Servants were trying to bar her passage.

The young woman looked around quickly and saw her father, mounted on his horse, riding up. Lady Tremaine hadn't seen her Lord husband due to her attention being focused solely on the wayward girl. As her father rode up, people scattered to make room, and it defused the situation momentarily.

"What is going on here?" he demanded.

His wife strode up and answered, "'Tis folly, I say! Anastasia fit the glass slipper and now Cinderella has gone mad!"

"My dear, what is the meaning of this?" her Lord father asked of Cinderella.

The young woman squared her shoulders and looked her father in the eye. "I cannot tarry, father, though while you await my return, you might want to ask your wife why she has seen fit to bed Lord Mormont in your absence." Cinderella was already galloping off towards the gates when her father looked to his wife with a stony expression.

Cinderella rode the horse hard and fast, trying to catch up with the royal caravan. She knew that she would catch them soon enough, but she felt like every second spent catching up was ten she would lose in the chase. Her hair came loose of its pins and flew behind her like a golden curtain. She rode across the hilly countryside and through copses of trees, trying to angle her route to intercept the prince and Anastasia.

A branch nearly took her head off as she ducked under it, and in the process she had to jerk the reins to the side, which caused the mare to start and it sent Cinderella from her saddle. She hit the ground and tumbled into the side of a bush. Groaning, she stood up and brushed herself down, looking around. The horse had come to a stop further down the way, neighing and foraging contently.

Cinderella cursed and strode through the brush to get at the horse, but she stopped as a shadow moving off to her side caught her attention. She peered intently through the trees, and further in the brush thickened discernably, making it nearly impossible to see through. A few steps were taken backwards as she peered about warily. With slow steps, the young woman made her way back towards her horse. And again she saw the shadowy figure move through the brambles, eventually taking on shape and color.

"_You_," she hissed.

Standing on a branch, merely a foot-and-a-half tall, was the fairy. Her face betrayed no emotion that Cinderella could read. "What is it, child? From the look of things you are being wild and careless yet again."

"No thanks to you. What did you do? Give me the hope of the Ball only to give the finality to my stepsister?" Cinderella burned with a cold anger. "How long is it before your magic wears off with her?"

The fairy retorted haughtily, "If I remember rightly, you asked me for _just_ one night." Cinderella thought on this, and the little being was right, she _had_ asked for just one night, not knowing the full extent of what she was saying. "Furthermore, I shan't be blamed for the slipper when 'twas not mine to guard."

"How long?" The icy tone from the young woman matched the glare in her eyes.

"You must understand, lassy, that this is all out of my control…"

Cinderella strode towards the fairy, nearly screaming as she asked again, "_How long?_"

The small female merely shook her head. Cinderella snatched her off of the branch and threw her down. The shock of the unexpected action kept the fairy from responding, and then the air left her lungs in a rush as she hit the ground. Cinderella shoved one hand onto her chest and pressed the fairy down while her other one went to the smaller female's throat.

"How long?" she hissed again.

The fairy gagged as she struggled for breath. "Never!"

And then all other words were choked out of her as Cinderella forced her weight down onto both hands. "You could have warned me! You could have—" and then she suddenly eased up the pressure enough to allow her prisoner to breathe. "Why? Why have you betrayed me? They all betrayed me, why have you? Am I such a horrible person that I must be betrayed by all about me?"

The fairy gasped for breath, not willing to speak; the skepticism in her eyes betrayed her wariness at the instability of the young woman.

"Why?" hissed Cinderella as she glowered at the small female. She accentuated her question with her bodily weight.

The fairy struggled to breathe, and she gasped at the air forcefully when the young woman let her up. "I said it! I said it! Be specific in what you wish! I can only work my magic for others if they are specific!"

And Cinderella finally understood. She thought back to what was said the night of the Ball and how she was clear in her requests but she ignored the rules that encased the wishes she had made. Her memory came into sharp relief. She knew now the error of her ways. Her fingers eased off of the fairy and she crouched over the small figure, her breaths racking her petite frame.

As the fairy began to scoot away from Cinderella, the girl asked her in a meek voice, "Why help her? Surely I did not wish that."

"She caught me. I am bound to serve the ones whom claim me, child. I did not wish it myself, but be assured that I do not take pleasure even if I must obey."

Cinderella looked at her, unshed tears welling up in her blue eyes. She sniffled and wiped her nose with the back of her hand. Standing upright, the girl looked around and spotted her horse in the same area it was in just moments before.

"What will you do now, child?"

"Get what's mine by rights," stated Cinderella with a stony determination.

"And me?"

The young Lady looked down at the fairy at her feet. Nothing was said as she stared for a moment, and then she looked back to her mare and stepped over the tiny female, leaving her there. She moved through the brush and patted her horse on its snout. She cooed to it and whispered in its ear before she straightened her shoulders and mounted, riding off.

The caravan was stopped as the sun was dipping down. It took Cinderella a moment to realize that the main wagon had a broken wheel. There were a handful of men working on repairs. The young woman wasted no time as she galloped down toward the cluster on the side of the road. Men were speaking gruffly with each other in the High Tongue, a language that Cinderella was raised with even if her schooling was less severe as those of royal lineage. She came to a halt just outside an outside fire, and was hailed by one of the Royal Guards.

"What business brings you here, my Lady?" inquired the guard, assessing her rank by her dress and not necessarily by its condition. Considering the romp she had been through, she came out relatively unscathed.

"I am here to present myself to his Royal Heir, as his majesty stated in his notice that all Ladies may try the slipper," Cinderella called to the man.

Others began to gather around at the sudden change in pace.

The guard gave her a hooded look. "I beg your pardon, m'lady, but our business has concluded, for we have found our missing Lady."

"I do not doubt you, good sir," began Cinderella, not seeming offensive and holier even though she was mounted and he was not. "But if I may, will you humor me?"

The guard spoke with another next to him too quietly for the young Lady to hear. She held her breath as they conversed. Others were speaking to each other now, and word was spreading about this woman who traveled the countryside for a chance at the glass slipper. The second guard nodded briskly and moved forward, extending his hand towards Cinderella.

The soldier she initially spoke to addressed her. "M'lady, I will go to him. I can guarantee nothing, so please understand." He bowed to her and headed off back to the main cluster of wagons.

They were circled around the main wagon that housed the prince, and soldiers stood guard around the pseudo encampment. There were few fires burning, shining against the dying daylight. It was a crimson horizon that bled into the violet of the onset of night. Cinderella allowed the soldier to take her reins as she went about soothing the mare, apologizing to the soldier with an explanation of why the horse was acting out of sorts.

She did not see the guard and the prince standing between two wagons looking in her direction. She did not know that they were discussing her. It was a moment before the horse came under control that she looked up to the wagons and saw him standing there, silhouetted by the failing light but discernable nevertheless. She pushed her hair back behind an ear and a flustered smile came to her lips despite the day she had had.

The prince looked away from her, conferred with the guard, and then brought his attention back to the group of soldiers and servants gathered around the Lady. He approached them with regal steps, his demeanor one of elegance and authority, as the royal lineage was wont to bear. People parted for him as he made his way down the hill. Further up, another woman stood as if to assess the situation.

When the prince was within range to see his face fully, Cinderella had to force herself to bow her head and avert her eyes. "Your Grace," she said softly and respectfully.

"My Lady; how is it I may help you?" he asked her quietly.

She dismounted with the help of the soldier. She brushed her skirts down and curtsied as station demanded. "Forgive me for this intrusion, Your Grace. I am here because of your petition, if it please you."

He stood there for a long moment, the firelight playing on his delicate and slender crown, not saying anything.

"The petition read that all had until the end of this day to chance their luck," Cinderella added, using as much will as she could muster not to let a pleading whine strain her voice.

The other woman caught up with them as she interjected, "He has found whom he sought, so I see no point in this."

The prince looked sidelong at Anastasia before bringing his attention back to Cinderella. "I had stated that 'twas to be at the end of this day." With a gesture towards his wagon, he commanded one soldier, "Go fetch the slippers, Bran."

The soldier obeyed.

Cinderella looked at Anastasia with a shocked expression. She couldn't help herself because the woman was so different that she could barely tell it was her stepsister. She was much more regal in appearance; her hair was streaked blonde and the burgundy was lightened to a coppery color, her nose was slender throughout with only a small bulb at the end, and her cheeks were higher planes than before which cradled her eyes seductively. Her eyes were different as well. They were not the cold blue of her mother's line but the sapphire so much like Cinderella's.

"Anastasia…" Cinderella breathed out. "You are beautiful."

Whatever was about to come out of Anastasia's mouth froze in place at the statement by her stepsister. Uncertainty bloomed on her face as she stared at her now rival. To the prince, she said, "Why must you retrieve those slippers? The other was mine. Is that not enough to validate whom 'tis I am?"

The prince looked to her, but before he could reply, Cinderella interjected. "If property truly changes ownership upon theft, then yes, the slipper is yours."

The guards became uneasy as the tension rose, but the prince stood his ground. He did not question the two women, but allowed them to speak their minds. His expression was guarded but he did not interfere.

"That is preposterous!" said Anastasia, but her tone betrayed her.

Cinderella glared at her stepsister. "I wondered what 'twas that you wanted. Like you said, you are only deceptive when there is something you want." Her expression softened minutely. "Though, I do not blame you."

Anastasia faced the prince, "Must we go through this?"

The prince extended his arms out, unarmed.

"Fine with me, since I had the other slipper, so this is just a formality." Anastasia sounded so sure of herself.

"I believe so," concurred Cinderella. "I am certain that you told His Grace about the mint leaves that were in the slippers that night. Surely you know how uncomfortable they are until you get used to them."

The soldier returned and the prince gestured that he hold back with the box as the two women continued.

"He must rest well knowing that the button of his coat was a worthy trade for the slipper that was left behind." Cinderella said this while she held up her hand; between her index finger and thumb was a single silver stud. Throughout this, her eyes never left her stepsister's. "You see, Anastasia, I never had to rely on the slipper itself to purchase my case with His Grace. I know that he uses no perfume to cover his smell. I know that he is light on his leading foot when he dances. I know that the Lady Tremaine was with her two daughters the night of the Ball, and when her daughters did manage to dance, they remained close by so that she could hawk over them. I know that the dress this missing Lady wore was lined with tiny shells on its hem, those the size of the gems used. I know that the pin used to hold her hair above her left ear was one of gemmed flowers on silver, given to her by her mother whom had received it from the missing Lady's father. You see, Anastasia, I never needed the slipper at all."

"The mint alone would have done it," said the prince, stepping forward. He held his hand out to Cinderella, who placed her tiny one into his. "I am, truly, glad to have found you. This does me good."

Anastasia gasped, her hand automatically fluttering to her breast. "Cinderella!" she hissed.

Both Cinderella and the charming Prince faced Anastasia. "Arrest her," he commanded his guards. Soldiers flanked the woman and put restraining hands onto her arms. They weren't forceful, but they were stern. They guided her away from the scene. She didn't put up much of a fight, still in shock over the sudden turn of events.

"And what is it we should do with her, my Lady Cinderella?" asked the prince as he held her lightly in his arms.

She thought of it for a moment, of everything that had transpired, of the betrayal, the demands, and the years of emotional torment she underwent at the hands of her stepmother and stepsisters. And then she recollected the conversation she had with Anastasia in her room when they were alone. It was easy to see that she was a victim of her mother, like Cinderella, if only in a very different way. She could exact the revenge that her newfound mentality called for, but the question was how to go about it, not if she should or not.

Cinderella wet her lips. "Give her monies and set her up elsewhere, away from her mother; let the Lady Tremaine think the worst had happened."

The prince gave a half-smiled. "Are you certain that you wishn't she be humiliated?"

She shook her head. "No," Cinderella murmured, looking into her eyes. "It isn't her I wish to punish."

"What a queen you shall make," the prince said, kissing Cinderella.


End file.
